Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing

Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing
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A decades-old cold case is testing everything one Texas Ranger thought he knew about obtaining justice[unknown-8230] A lot of men on death row profess their innocence. Those men are mostly just scared of dying. Jaxon Ward understands that, but as a Texas Ranger he needs to uphold the law. Yet the story Avery Tierney tells him[unknown-8230] He’s convinced her brother is awaiting execution while the real killer remains at large. Searching for the murderer opens old wounds for Avery, and now she has to face a past so traumatic she blocked it out. A past not so dissimilar to Jax’s. Before long, the only comfort they find is in each other’s arms. Avery’s lost everything once before. And now, if she loses Jaxon, she fears she’ll never recover.

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cover

“Send her in.”

Nothing Jaxon had read in the file prepared him for the beautiful woman who stepped inside. Avery Tierney had been a skinny, homely looking kid with scraggly, dirty brown hair and freckles, wearing hand-me-downs. She’d looked lost, alone and frightened.

This Avery was petite with chocolate-brown eyes that would melt a man’s heart and curves that twisted his gut into a knot.

Although fear still lingered in those eyes. The kind of fear that made a man want to drag her in his arms and promise her everything would be all right.

“You have to help me stop the execution and get my brother released from prison,” Avery said, her voice urgent.

“Why would I do that, Miss Tierney?”

A pained sound ripped from Avery Tierney’s throat. “Because he’s innocent.”

Cold Case in Cherokee Crossing

Rita Herron


www.millsandboon.co.uk

Award-winning author RITA HERRON wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded storytelling to kids for writing romance, and now she writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write her at PO Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, USA, or visit her website, www.ritaherron.com.

To my beautiful daughters who, as counselors, are the real heroes.

Love you, Mom

Blood splattered the wood floor and walls. So much blood.

A scream lodged in nine-year-old Avery Tierney’s throat. Her foster father, Wade Mulligan, lay on the floor. Limp. Helpless. Bleeding.

His eyes were bulging. The whites milky looking. His lips blue. His shirt torn from dozens of knife wounds.

The room was cold. The wind whistled through the old house like a ghost. Windowpanes rattled. The floor squeaked.

Horror made her shake all over.

Then relief.

That mean old bully could never hurt her again. Never come into her bedroom. Never whisper vile things in her ear.

Never make her do those things....

A noise sounded. She dragged her eyes from the bloody mess, then looked up. Her brother, Hank, stood beside the body.

A knife in his hand.

He grunted, raised the knife and stabbed Wade again. Wade’s body jerked. Hank did it again. Over and over.

Blood dripped from the handle and blade. More soaked his shirt. His hands were covered....

His eyes looked wild. Excited. Full of rage.

She opened her mouth to scream again, but Hank lifted his finger to his lips and whispered, “Shh.”

Avery nodded, although she thought she might get sick. She wanted him to stop.

She wanted him to stab Wade again. To make sure he was dead.

A siren wailed outside. Blue lights suddenly twirled, shining through the front window.

Hank jerked his head around, eyes flashing with fear.

Then the door crashed open and two policemen stormed in.

Hank dropped the knife to the floor with a clatter and tried to run. The bigger cop caught him around the waist.

“Let me go! Stop it!” Hank bellowed.

The skinny cop moved toward her. Then he knelt and felt Wade’s neck. A second later, he looked at his partner and shook his head. “Dead.”

The cop turned to her with a frown. “What happened?”

“Don’t say anything!” Hank yelled.

Avery’s cry caught in her throat. She didn’t know what to do. What to say. She’d seen the knife in Hank’s hand. Seen him stabbing Wade over and over.

Something niggled at the back of her mind. Something that had happened. Wade had come into her room.... She’d heard a noise....

“Where’s your mother?” the policeman asked.

She didn’t know that, either. The foster homes had been her life.

“Stop fighting me, kid.” The big cop shoved Hank up against the wall, pushed his knee in Hank’s back, then jerked his arms behind him.

Tears blurred Avery’s eyes as he handcuffed her brother.

“It’ll be okay, sis,” Hank shouted.

Avery let out a sob. Hank was all she had.

What were they going to do to him? Would they take him to jail?

If they did, what would happen to her?

Twenty years later

“Thirty-four-year-old Hank Tierney is scheduled for execution in just a few days. Protestors against the death penalty have begun to rally, but due to Tierney’s confession, his appeals have been denied.”

Avery stared at the local television news in Cherokee Crossing, her heart in her throat as images from the past assaulted her.

Hank holding the bloody knife, Hank repeatedly stabbing Wade Mulligan...

Her doing nothing... She’d been in shock. Traumatized, the therapist had said. Dr. Weingarten had tried to protect her from the press. Had sat with her during the grueling forensic police interviews. Had tried to get her placed in a safe, stable home.



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